


Street Drabbles

by alexpeanut



Category: Five Horsemen - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Cupcakes, Fluff, Hacking, Horses, Multi, SO MUCH FLUFF, but not beastiality, shirts, tech, that would be weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexpeanut/pseuds/alexpeanut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for the Five Horsemen</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At least it's not dead mice...

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is a different drabble.  
> I can't help myself.  
> Seriously.  
> Send help.

They don't put it together at first. When Zack's phone gets inexplicably faster he blames it on the newest ios update, even though he hasn't updated it in a month. It also has several new apps on it he doesn't remember downloading, but this "Akinator" person correctly named all four of them (to his endless delight) so it can't be all bad. 

Echo's favorite mixer goes missing for a day and comes back with the in-between-slow-and-medium speed she keeps complaining it needs (and painted a lovely shade of black with pink roses that matches the spatula). 

The next time he shaves, Cal's razor doesn't nick him under the chin in the same spot he always messes up. Depth perception can be a bitch. He almost misses the way Zack would fuss if he forgot to blot it with a bit of toilet paper and wandered out of the bathroom with blood running down his chin, but the absence of it is pretty good too.

It gets more blatant (even if they still haven't put two and two together). Echo's computer gets a snazzy new translator upgrade, Zack's subscribed to at least four more motorcycle magazines than he remembers buying, and Cal's entire laptop is returned after being missing for three days with new software AND hardware. 

Cal makes an effort to locate Kadira that night, eventually cornering her in her "office". She looks up guiltily from her desk, a screwdriver held between her teeth and the remnants of what looks like someone's phone spread in pieces around her. "Akinator was a nice touch."

"Eh prohframs ish umtuh et." She mumbles around her mouthful before relenting at his expectant stare and removing the offending tool. "I programmed us into it."

"Us." His reply is flat, not letting the amusement he feels into his voice or eye. 

"Not us, us. Us." She waves vaguely around to indicate the sum total of their lair. Because it is a lair, thank you very much, no matter how much anyone else tells her otherwise and Death's little decorating touches try and convert it into a spacious above-ground loft. "And I gave you a NASA-quality razor. I'd like to see Santa top that."

"NASA makes razors?"

"No. But if they did, it would be like the one I made you." Now she's just petulant, curling in on herself like she expects reprimanding. 

"I'm sure." Now he is outwardly amused, although he's still trying (and failing) to keep a straight face. "Let me know when you do Death's computer. Don't-" he cuts off her half-assed protest mid-opening of mouth "even try to lie and say that wasn't next."

At her sulky silence he snorts and leans over to press a kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you for the laptop." He leaves her smiling to herself, still surrounded by the wreckage of a phone.


	2. She wears his shirts

She steals Cal's shirts sometimes, when she's been too exhausted after sex to crawl back to her own bed, and she doesn't feel like putting on pants the next morning. Zack's shirts smell better, like motor oil and machinery, but they're too close in size and despite her best efforts she just can't pull off the look. Cal's fall just to her thighs and as long as she doesn't bend too far over she can pretend she's decent. Plus, she likes the way his eye tracks her as she putters around the kitchen, making Echo swear at her in Greek and bat her away when she starts to perch, bare-assed, on the nearest counter.


	3. Burning the Midnight Oil

She hasn't slept more than two hours straight in four days. There's a hacker on their trail, that much they understand, but she's been awake too long to translate her explanation into common English, instead derailing herself every time they ask. She rants about data trails and firewalls and words out of an internet instruction manual. She's showered (briefly) and brushed her teeth during pee breaks but exhaustion clings to her in a thin sheen of crazy and her eyes are bloodshot.  
They've tried to lure her away from the computer, to sleep, to eat, to do anything but type, but she refuses. Apparently the threat is too dangerous to ignore that long. They leave her to her angry muttering with no small trepidation, but agree that the safety of the group has to come first.  
When tensions break in the wee hours of the fifth day she pushes back from the computer a bit too viciously, almost tipping her chair over. She stumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and reaches for the cold coffee pot.  
Apparently coming from nowhere, Echo lightly slaps her hands away, saying something Kadira's brain is too fried to translate and she's tipping forward, wrapping her arms around the woman and tucking her head up under Echo's chin, exhausted. Echo hugs her back, rubbing soothing circles along her spine, humming softly until Kadira is practically asleep in her arms.  
The toilet flushes an indeterminate amount of time later and Zack wanders in and blinks at them both, asking in a whisper. "Is it over?"  
"I think....yes." Echo replies slowly, gesturing with her chin for Zack to help her pick Kadira up.  
Between the two of them they return the solidly asleep hacker to her room, Echo carefully tucking her in. If she sleeps for 19 hours straight and wakes up with a serious case of bedhead, well. She's earned it.


	4. Too Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now finished!

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck!" Kadira swears under her breath as they pound through the streets, ducking to avoid a street sign and pressing herself tighter to Nana's back, feeling the horse's sides heave with each indrawn breath. Behind them police sirens wail, drawing far too close for comfort. She sits up briefly to whip trashcans out into the road, the tension around her eyes easing just slightly at the screech of brakes that follows.

Spotting an alley, she yanks Nana's head, turning them into it, then hits the kill switch to turn off all their electric decorations. A blast from the EMP canon on her side blows the nearby streetlamps and house lights and the alley collapses into darkness. She swings off Nana, grabbing his reins to urgently pull his head close to hers. "Nana. Home." With a slap to his flank he jumps a wall and is away, carrying most of her gear with him.

She relights her whip, making herself a beacon, and sets off at a flat run down the alley as police lights paints the walls red and blue. She can hear the cops giving chase and sends up a brief prayer that no one has seen Nana leave.

Twenty minutes of sprinting through narrow alleys and dark sidewalks barely buys her a quarter of a block of leeway, the police still right on her heels. Flagging fast, each breath scraping through her chest, she sprints at a wall and up it, parkoring across a fire escape and another balcony up onto the steepled roofs.

The meet shouldn't have gone that wrong. She's sure she remembered to tweak a nearby rally's schedule to keep the police occupied and Zack had delivered the necessary bribes. Someone had to have tipped off the pigs to have them show up so unexpectedly. Running things over internally as she races across the roofs, Kadira almost missteps when a gunshot rings out, her aching legs nearly betraying her. The shot sends shards of tile flying and a few clip her, making her wince. Right, now was the time for running, not thinking, but she couldn't keep this up much longer.

She scans the roofs ahead, stomach sinking when they drop off without warning. Shit, the canal. She still hasn't found time to make her whip, or her phone, waterproof.

More police yelling accompanies another warning shot and then she's diving off the edge, dragging a last breath into her aching lungs before she hits the water's surface hard. The October chill makes the water only a few degrees below freezing, but she stays down, letting the current pull her downstream. Only when oxygen becomes an absolutely necessity does she fight for the surface, sodden clothes and the exhaustion in her limbs making it a struggle.

Thankfully the cops appear to still be messing about upstream, not having seen her enter the water, so she kicks off the other way until she's shivering uncontrollably, barely able to keep her head above water. Desperate for land she tries to climb out but can't find the strength to claw her way out of the canal. Minutes later she's breathing more water than air and can't feel her extremities.

A figure looms out of the darkness shrouding one of the banks and she nearly cries with relief as a strong arm grabs her numb one, hauling her up the wall of the canal and onto the street. She falls into Cal when he tries to get her to stand, legs unable to take her weight and he catches her again, catalguing injuries with the experience of a soldier. He takes in the torn clothes, banged elbows and knees and the alarming shade of purple her lips have gone and swears under his breath, hoisting her up into the waiting saddle of Spitfire.

"Fucking hell Kadira, this is cutting it too close." He swings up behind her, urging Spitfire home at a jarring trot. As Kadira's limbs thaw slightly they fill with pins and needles, the pain crippling. If she cries into Cal's shoulder at least he's too nice to call her on it, instead making a quick phone call and snapping a few words that she's fading too quickly to hear.

She's pretty sure she blacks out between riding into the garage and being placed in the bathtub of their current lair, clothes still on. The water is burning hot against her skin and she cries out piteously at the shock, making a feeble attempt to escape the tub. Hands steady her but don't allow her to rise, and after long, tense minutes she relaxes into the water, the heat slowly seeping towards her frozen bones.

At some point she warms up enough that they get her out of the tub and into sleepwear that must have been heated in the drier. She's still foggy with exhaustion and it doesn't take much coaxing to fall asleep squished between Zack and Cal in one of their beds.

They yell at her the next morning, a good hour of shouting that she ignores and waves off as she tries to repair the damage done to her whip by its accidental soaking, despite the phantom chill still plaguing her extremities. (Zack makes it clear that he is Not Impressed that she couldn't get herself out of the canal, but did make the effort to hang onto "that stupid fucking piece of junk!"(It turns out that even with numb fingers she can still aim projectiles at his head with decent accuracy.)) Echo just places a mug of soup at her elbow and leaves her to her work, although every time she looks over the younger woman is glaring at her.

Some things never change.


	5. The Beast Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished again~

She wears War like a fucking uniform, pulling on one layer at a time until the illusion is complete. No matter how many times Cal or Zack sits in the room when she gets dressed, the change always catches them by surprise.   
The clothes are subtle enough. Sexier than her usual outfits, yes, but they're all aware of her leather fetish and while the thigh-highs are stunning they're not that far out of her comfort zone. She never braids her hair quite the same way as War does, but it's still not a huge difference.   
Zack swears up and down that it's the contacts that do it. She pops in the iridescent blue circles with deft movements and when she drops her hands a different face is staring back from the mirror. The lines around her eyes are harsher, her gaze an unnerving laser focus. She seems taller, shadows drawing in around her frame until she commands the attention of the room.  
Cal defends the bandanna as the driving force. She picks her mask deliberately, paging through the drawer until she finds one that suits the night. When she ties it over her mouth any hint of a smile or friendly quirk of the lips is gone, hidden behind a skull's jaw or lion's snarl and a predatory fierceness.  
When she catches their eye after turning from the mirror it's not Kadira that's holding their attention but a force greater than a single person. War coils the whip easily between her fingers and moves with a panther-like grace and economy that's at odds with the usually enthusiastic Kadira. It's the lizard brain that triggers on her approach, a nervous shiver down the spine as flight-or-fight instincts shoot to the surface. 

It's...  
It's really fucking hot actually, but also kinda scary in that "home alone but it feels like someone's watching me" way. 

And somehow when they're dressed up too and they catch each other's eyes it's like that darkness nods back at them.


	6. Home is where the staff is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Repost from dA so I don't lose it

They have one house right  
and it is the house to end all houses  
the supreme joint headquarters where they keep all those things  
like the shoebox of mementos  
and that one sweater that's too ratty to wear outside but is PERFECT for rainy days indoors  
and the Christmas decorations from someone's aunt that are hella ugly but it would be sacrilegious to get rid of them

and this house is actually the penthouse suite  
that's been converted to include the two apartments on the floor below it  
in some 12-floor high-rise apartment building  
the type with a doorman, and maid service, and a private elevator, and people to shine your shoes if you leave them out on the landing

and what everyone always forgets is how nice it is to have staff  
until they get back to the house and settle in for a few weeks inbetween duties  
and Cal steps out into the foyer every morning to find the newspaper waiting for him, or sometimes two or three if the news is particularly good, because he loves to read about all the sordid current-day gossip even though he will go to his grave swearing it's stupid and petty  
and Zack returns from a quick errand sodden and damp from the rain that's sheeting down outside to find the doorman has a warm towel and a freshly baked doughnut waiting for his return  
and Echo is always welcome in the staff kitchen in the bowels of the building, because even though Kadira upgraded all the appliances it's much easier to work when you have help, and the kitchen staff think she's hilarious and brilliant and are happy to loan her supplies and as many pairs of hands as she needs so long as she leaves a dozen beignets for them to share  
and no matter what bizarre time it is the night staff have a pot of coffee going at the front desk, and the doorman can always be persuaded to have a in-depth discussion of the stock market or the political climate in Sibera when Kadira's too wired to sleep and needs a distraction from the depths of her own psyche

and so while their other safehouses are nice  
and may have all the amenities and a nicer view  
it's that penthouse that they call home  
and it has nothing to do with the house, or the furniture, or even the location  
and everything to do with Phil the day doorman and his love of bizarrely patterned socks and a taser he's not afraid to use tucked under his uniform, and Natalia the head of housekeeping who runs her staff like a warlord and has no qualms about (politely) bullying them into wearing a thicker jacket when it gets cold, and Chester the valet who has taken to carrying sugar in his pockets just in case the Horsemen come by, and Eduardo the head chef who has a knack for making just the food they want and an incredibly sketchy rap sheet no one talks about

because sometimes it's not about the physical things


	7. Disrespect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes they have to remind people who's in charge.

"We're going hunting."

Kadira looks up, eyes glinting in the dim light as she sets the laptop aside. "Who for?" Even as she asks she's moving to the spare bedroom and the large vanity within.

Cal follows, pulling his leathers from the closet while she sits to do her makeup. "Goes by 'Rage Hard'. Three confirmed kills, at least sixteen injured."

Her face contorted to apply eyeshadow, Kadira still manages to look angry. "How many races?"

"One."

"Christ. He's showing up tonight?"

Cal nods, pulling his pants on. "Confirmed his spot in the lineup yesterday, and I've got a snapshot from a steward that looks like him." He catches her eye in the mirror as she pauses to put in her contacts. "Tehran won't let us back unless we do something about him."

Her returned gaze is eerily blue, her grin shark-like. "What kind of something did you have in mind?"

\----

It goes off spectacularly. Mid race, a car swerves into the field and cuts Rage Hard off, forcing them into an alley. The team thunders down it, only to pull up sharply when Conquest suddenly looms out of the shadows of the dead end, Spitfire blazing to life. The murderer's horse screams under the sharp pressure on her reins, forcing her to turn, but Vigor is there, his wings arcing out to block the entrance of the alley, sending reflections of his flames skittering down the street. Trapped, the rider swears loudly, reining his horse in and sitting tense in his saddle, eyes skipping between the two Horsemen as they close in.

At a light touch from War Vigor screams as he was trained, the sound impossibly loud and harsh in the narrow alley. The rider whirls to look at them, missing Conquest urging Spitfire forward so that when he turns back they're mere feet away.

"Jacob Consant." Conquest's voice is deeper than at home, the baritone easily heard in the silence that falls. "You've been disrespecting Street."

Squaring off in the saddle, the rider looks defiantly back at him. "Fuck you, everyone cheats at Street."

"Not like you." Spitfire's glow slides around the edge of his goggles as Conquest tilts his head slightly. "Not killing for sport."

Jacob spits curses at him, hands reaching for the knives at his belt, but War is one step ahead of him, whip arching out to snap the weapons from his grip before the sound of its motion even registers. He cries out, cradling his wrists in his lap as the welts slowly fade into existence, his mare shivering under him. The knives fall harmlessly into the street, and he doesn't move to grab another set, his posture finally showing fear.

"We don't condone killing bystanders." Conquest continues blandly, "Actually we don't condone killing anyone associated with Street." He glances over Jacob's shoulder to meet War's eyes. "Luckily for us, you're no longer associated with Street." When Jacob turns to look at War he flinches back from the pure, bloodthirsty glee visible over her bandanna.

Jacob's mare fidgets, sensing her rider's mood. She shifts away as Vigor takes a step closer, unsure of which horse to keep her eyes on. Jacob's no better, nerves overtaking any bravado he had as War raises her whip.

"We won't be seeing you again." Conquest says, steel threading his words. "Ever. And just to make sure you don't slip through the ranks somehow, we're going to leave you with a little parting gift. War, if you would?"

Jacob starts to turn to look at her, but before he's fully turned he's knocked off the horse head-first, the whip biting brutally into his cheek, making an arc of blood spray out as it digs in. He falls to the pavement, face bleeding heavily from the long wound. His mare panics, hooves thundering around his head, and it's long minutes before the haze of fear and pain fades enough that he can look around. But the alley is empty, just a few crows' feathers lying on the asphalt.

\----

Blocks away Kadira slows Vigor, turning to look at Cal as he pulls up beside her. They're both grinning, adrenaline racing through them.

"Did you see his face?" Kadira gasps, laughing around the edges of the words. "I think he pissed himself!"


	8. Adrenaline Junkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the night air just goes to their heads.

There's police sirens wailing behind them as they pelt down the darkened street, giggling between themselves as the high of the night air gets into their heads. Cal drives Spitfire under an awning and the force of their passage dislodges a bucket worth of freezing rainwater directly onto his head, leaving Cal gasping in shock. Zack is barely breathing through his laughter, tears in his eyes and his hands sloppy on the reins. Kadira's undignified giggles echo behind them and even Cal is smiling, the neon signs of the city sliding off the rounded edges of his goggles. They escape the city on the high of fumes and receding police lights and they're still smiling, the success of the escape too wondrous to contain in that moment. 

\----

They tumble into the flat and later into bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter and Kadira ends up mostly on top of Cal, an elbow in his ribs with Zack's fingers brushing his thigh and she's giggling against his skin, sporadic and joyful. The laughter is contagious and Zack's grin presses into Cal's shoulder.

"A drowned rat." Kadira decides, setting off a snort from Zack, who shakes his head.

"A wet puppy." They giggle together, drawing a sigh from Cal, who's watching them fondly from his good eye. 

"I'm right here."

They carry on over him.

"A soaked kitten."

"A bedraggled bird."

"Ooo, good word."

Zack's laughing openly now while Kadira's amusement is in puffs of air against Cal's skin. She looks up suddenly with a worrying glint in her eyes. "We should kiss it better." 

Zack thinks about it for just a moment, then he's also looking at Cal, who's now eyeing them with mistrust. 

"That's...nice of you." Cal starts, breath catching a little as Kadira ducks to kiss along his collarbone. Zack's lips find his neck, tongue flicking out to taste the skin. 

"Can't have you catching a cold." Kadira's words would be more believable if she wasn't moving south, Zack stopping any words Cal might have by kissing him on the mouth. The noises Cal makes are lost to the heavy bedroom air as Kadira's lips land on his cock. He can tell she's still smiling, a thought that sticks in his head even as the rest goes hazy. 

\----

Zack's boxers are hopelessly tangled around his ankles. Kadira laughs breathlessly when he flails around trying to get them off, curling closer to Cal's side in the aftermath.   
"I'd ask what's gotten into you two but I..." Cal starts, trailing off when Kadira lazily puts a hand over his mouth.

"Sleep time now." She decrees, making grabby hands at Zack until he scoots to lie down, sandwiching her between him and Cal.


	9. (Fun)draiser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can't all be work

"I still don't get why I can't go." Zack grumbles where he's laying on his back on the bed, feet by the headboard and head hanging off the end to look at them upside-down. "I can dress up nice too."

Kadira is carefully applying eyeshadow in the mirror of the vanity, her body wrapped in a gorgeous floor length teal dress. "Arm candy generally describes only one arm worth of attractive partner. And I found Cal first." 

Cal, clothed in a well-fitting military uniform, carefully adjusts his medals in the closet mirror and smirks slightly. 

"Technically I found him first." Zack protests.

"Technically," Kadira stresses, a smile stretching her face and making her pause in the makeup application, "I found you first, and you found him, which means I get first dibs." She relaxes her face in the mirror, putting on the last touches before standing. Both men watch the play of silk and chiffon over her curves appreciatively. "And besides, this will be incredibly boring. They throw the same fundraiser every year and it's always a chore. I think someone in the quartet actually fell asleep mid-song last year and I know at least three couples snuck off to have sex during the dancing."

Cal leers at her, making a last adjustment to his eyepatch before walking over and she smacks him on the arm with her clutch. "Business. I am going for business and you are going to keep me from yelling at any of these idiots when they try to feel me up." She reaches out to pet Zack on the head on her way out of the room. "Behave, and don't stay up too late." 

"Okay Mom!" He yells after them, to which she only laughs, already halfway down the hall, Cal trailing after.

\----

spoiler: they totally have sex in a random hallway and it's messy and terrible and they laugh like idiots through most of it and go home like immediately after and Kadira's still wet and just like sheds the dress and sits on Zack's face true story.


End file.
